Comshaw
VAGITARIAN
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2000
- Posts
- 11,781
It's the 24th of December 2023. I've been walking the planet now for 73 years. In that time I've had many Christmas celebrations that were memorable: as a youngin' with my family, with my wife before kids, with my wife, kids and family after that. One of the ones that sticks in my head and I think about every Christmas happened on the 25th of December 1970.
I think at least a few of you have read that I was an artillery mechanic while in the Army and the time I served in Vietnam. My base camp was at Phu Bi, on the coast south of Hue City. But I never spent much time there. I traveled to several fire support bases where the unit (1/83rd. Field Artillery) I supported had their cannons setup. I would often get stuck on the firebase when the road became impassible because of enemy activity. Sometimes it would be for up to a week. I could have sat on my thumbs and done nothing while I was there, but that is so damned boring to do. I usually volunteered for one of the gun crews, moving powder bags and joes (projectiles) from the bunkers to the guns. Or I'd volunteer for perimeter guard, sitting in a bunker of fighting position glassing the wire to make sure Charlie wasn't trying to sneak up on us.
On Christmas eve day we got a radio transmission that one of the 175mm guns was broken down and they needed me on firebase Birmingham. I joined a convoy on its way to that base and got there in the late afternoon. The problem with the gun was the recoil mechanism. Without going into a long involved explanation, it uses a hydropneumatic system to absorb the recoil of the cannon. The pneumatic part is high-pressure nitrogen and this one had leaked it out. Consequently, the gun couldn't be used. This is nothing like a bunch of panicked senior grade officers sitting in an airconditioned office on the coast. Anyway, I got it up and ready to go.
By that time though it was dark and there was no way in hell I was going to drive back to base in the dark by myself. That was a good way to end up pushing up Daisys. I spent the night with one of the gun crews I had become familiar with. We drank some beer, played some cards, fired some ammo out into the wire when the mad minute was called.
What's a mad minute? Well from time to time at night, at irregular intervals the officer in charge would call a mad minute. When he did for 60 seconds everyone who had a weapon fired out into and just beyond the concertina wire that was our perimeter. This was designed to discourage sappers and those trying to sneak in on us.
The next morning there was no convey going back to the coast so I knew I'd be there over Christmas. That wasn't a bad thing. I had a lot of friends on Birmingham and didn't mind spending the time with them. I busied myself that day helping to sort through and organize the powder bunker. We had a couple of bags of powder that were torn and had spilled so we took them to the burn pit and had a powder burn. It wasn't hazardous. The powder for an 8" howitzer has grains that look like Rotelli pasta but are about 3/8" across and 3/4" long. When lit in open air it doesn't go "woosh!" it burns rather slowly. The improtant thing was to stay upwind.
That evening about 11:00 PM we were in the bunker playing cards and thought we heard a Christmas carol outside. When we went out there was a Huey flying circles around the hilltop and had a huge speaker hanging off the side playing Christmas carols. They circled us for at least 20 minutes before they flew off. The officer in charge never called a mad minute that night and the next morning we heard that not one single shot had been fired by anyone through the night.
That night, the carols and the report the next morning comes to mind every Christmas for me. Sometimes it isn't things you get for Christmas, but the events that make it special.
That's my story. Anyone else?
Comshaw
I think at least a few of you have read that I was an artillery mechanic while in the Army and the time I served in Vietnam. My base camp was at Phu Bi, on the coast south of Hue City. But I never spent much time there. I traveled to several fire support bases where the unit (1/83rd. Field Artillery) I supported had their cannons setup. I would often get stuck on the firebase when the road became impassible because of enemy activity. Sometimes it would be for up to a week. I could have sat on my thumbs and done nothing while I was there, but that is so damned boring to do. I usually volunteered for one of the gun crews, moving powder bags and joes (projectiles) from the bunkers to the guns. Or I'd volunteer for perimeter guard, sitting in a bunker of fighting position glassing the wire to make sure Charlie wasn't trying to sneak up on us.
On Christmas eve day we got a radio transmission that one of the 175mm guns was broken down and they needed me on firebase Birmingham. I joined a convoy on its way to that base and got there in the late afternoon. The problem with the gun was the recoil mechanism. Without going into a long involved explanation, it uses a hydropneumatic system to absorb the recoil of the cannon. The pneumatic part is high-pressure nitrogen and this one had leaked it out. Consequently, the gun couldn't be used. This is nothing like a bunch of panicked senior grade officers sitting in an airconditioned office on the coast. Anyway, I got it up and ready to go.
By that time though it was dark and there was no way in hell I was going to drive back to base in the dark by myself. That was a good way to end up pushing up Daisys. I spent the night with one of the gun crews I had become familiar with. We drank some beer, played some cards, fired some ammo out into the wire when the mad minute was called.
What's a mad minute? Well from time to time at night, at irregular intervals the officer in charge would call a mad minute. When he did for 60 seconds everyone who had a weapon fired out into and just beyond the concertina wire that was our perimeter. This was designed to discourage sappers and those trying to sneak in on us.
The next morning there was no convey going back to the coast so I knew I'd be there over Christmas. That wasn't a bad thing. I had a lot of friends on Birmingham and didn't mind spending the time with them. I busied myself that day helping to sort through and organize the powder bunker. We had a couple of bags of powder that were torn and had spilled so we took them to the burn pit and had a powder burn. It wasn't hazardous. The powder for an 8" howitzer has grains that look like Rotelli pasta but are about 3/8" across and 3/4" long. When lit in open air it doesn't go "woosh!" it burns rather slowly. The improtant thing was to stay upwind.
That evening about 11:00 PM we were in the bunker playing cards and thought we heard a Christmas carol outside. When we went out there was a Huey flying circles around the hilltop and had a huge speaker hanging off the side playing Christmas carols. They circled us for at least 20 minutes before they flew off. The officer in charge never called a mad minute that night and the next morning we heard that not one single shot had been fired by anyone through the night.
That night, the carols and the report the next morning comes to mind every Christmas for me. Sometimes it isn't things you get for Christmas, but the events that make it special.
That's my story. Anyone else?
Comshaw
